On Monday 3rd August 2026, the monastic community will begin its annual retreat under the direction of Father Michael Peterson OSB of Saint John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota, USA.
Please note the following changes to liturgy times:
Monday 3rd until Saturday 8th August: Matins and Lauds at 7am.
Monday 3rd and Thursday 6th August: no public celebration of Compline.
The normal liturgical timetable resumes on Sunday 9th August.
Monastery Reception and Shop: Monday 27th July to Saturday 8th August open from 10am until 4pm. Closed on Monday 3rd August, with normal opening hours resuming from Monday 10th August.
Anyone visiting Glenstal cannot but notice and be struck by the awesome, dramatic contemporary paintings confronting them in the Abbey Church, the Guesthouse and in the Reception area: all works of Brother Emmaus O’Herlihy OSB.
As behoves a monk, Emmaus is very self-effacing – but is an enthusiastic and very eloquently speaker when discussing his paintings (which he describes as an exercise in theology), the artistic choices and the theology behind them.
His academic background is impressive: in addition to a Bachelor of Design from the National College of Art and Design, Dublin, Emmaus obtained a Master of Theological Studies and a Doctorate in Theology from the University of St Michael’s College, University of Toronto, Canada.
Emmaus is also an excellent writer: his doctoral thesis (for which he had been awarded the Governor General’s Gold Medal for Academic Excellence) was published in 2024 as Worship Reshaped by Interruption. It is very much ‘specialised reading’, but as an art historian I found it really absorbing, particularly in its discussion of the role of art within the reform and promotion of the liturgy following Vatican II (Chapter VII of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, promulgated by Paul Vi in 1963).
It is interesting to note how the Church has always relied on art as a mediator to convey its message. In 1557, at the time of the Counterreformation, following the Council of Trent, St Charles Borromeo set out some very explicit Directives on what was appropriate and desirable.
In 2025 Emmaus published a beautifully-illustrated 150 pages book, simply entitled Paintings, in which he presents a selection of his works and discusses the theological points that underpin them. It can be purchased from Glenstal Abbey Shop: https://shop.glenstal.com/collections/all-books/products/paintings
Although it is described as ‘coffee-table book’, it certainly is not just an eye-candy: the texts that accompany each work and their dramatic details are a great exercise in exegesis and an inspiration for meditation. The theme that unifies the works is ‘the flesh is the hinge of salvation’, with much emphasis on physicality and vulnerability.
Earlier this year, in April 2026, building on these ideas, some of Emmaus’ works were exhibited in Limerick Museum. With the title ‘The Mystery and the Mud’, the exhibition explored the idea of humanity in its reality, its embodied experience of both sin and grace, messy and far from perfection, but never far from God, its loving creator and redeemer.
The gallery exhibition space was quite intimate, so only six paintings could be exhibited. Their huge size presupposes large spaces, but we viewers were afforded a close look at the way paint and paintbrush strokes masterly create ‘flesh’ in its texture and drama, and how the background to the figures suggests both an earthly space and infinity, their restricted, sombre palette inviting reflection. I was particularly taken by two works that were new to me, and that also feature in Paintings.
EGO VERITAS SUM (2019; oil on canvas, 183 cmx 244 cm) is a particularly arresting work. It imagines Christ, bound, crowned with thorns and painfully brutalised, standing on trial in front of Pilate. Pilates’ question ‘What is truth?’ elicits no answer from him: it is really the wrong question to Jesus’ statement, which Pilate has not understood at all… In Jesus’ silence and serene facial expression, we can read that ‘his thoughts are not our thoughts’, but that they are turning to his Kingdom. Against the plain background of the canvass, we catch a glimpse of a glorious, ineffable transfiguration, as Christ appears to dissolve in the pure light of ‘being the Truth’. His powerful, body and tightly-clasped hands make a powerful contrast with the evanescent head – we know that, in his love for us, he will stand firm and go through all the pain, agony and horror of the cross to gain our Redemption.
In contrast, the sombre, very beautiful profile of the protagonist of NEITHER DO I CONDEMN YOU (2025; oil on canvas, 183cm x 122 cm) dominates the canvas, which is saturated in hot tones of red-orange and burnt sienna, conveying an oppressive sense of mortal danger under relentless scorching heat. The painting focuses on the very end of the story of the woman caught in adultery, when, after all her accusers, one by one, have left, having been shamed by Jesus, she stands alone to face him. The woman’s expression is composed and tense: she has escaped being stoned to death, but now how harshly will this Teacher berate her? Will she have enough strength and eloquence to defend herself? Jesus, however, is the God of surprises – and merciful love: he knows about her heart and her situation, and he does not condemn her – but tells her that from now on she is to sin no more. As Emmaus notes, this is ‘judgment that doesn’t condemn but liberates’: it allows her to see clearly ahead and start again with courage: it affirms her dignity. This episode carries a lesson for us all: not to hastily and harshly judge and reject people that society condemns as ‘sinners’ – but to consider our common humanity and shared dignity as children of God, and to see how we could help them turn things around and find their true selves.
It is truly wonderful to have such a gifted and inspiring artist as Emmaus working in Glenstal: if you cannot visit and see his art in person, I warmly recommend Paintings as a beautiful book, full of startling new insights, which invites us to look, think and grow our Faith.
Dr Anna Gannon is an Oblate of Glenstal Abbey and Fellow Emerita of St Edmund’s College at the University of Cambridge.
In a sense, deepening one’s faith can feel a little like learning a new language. It can be difficult and requires intention, patience and the discipline of a daily practice so as to build fluency. Careful listening is required to appreciate discrete nuance and delicate shifts in understanding.
About twelve years ago, I made a decision to focus on my Christian faith. The spirituality of Saint Benedict appealed to me greatly with its emphasis on hospitality. Tired seekers can find a spiritual home with rest and respite from a busy world, amongst the welcoming hospitality of a praying Benedictine community.
This generous theme of hospitality under the Rule of St Benedict is complimented by a sensitivity for beauty, evidenced by the natural beauty of a monastic setting, exhibiting God’s grace and glory in creation and the joy of nature, and in the beauty of slow liturgy, chant and prayer. There is also within Benedictine spirituality an attention to learning and scholarship.
Over many years the monks of Glenstal have given talks on faith and prayer for those seeking meaning. These talks continue today. Many of us have had the privilege of attending the Lenten or Advent talks, conferences or the Easter Triduum at Glenstal, all opportunities for fostering a connection with the hidden and unseen God.
There are different ways in which we can immerse ourselves in matters of faith and learn of the need for conversion. Some years ago, like some others associated with Glenstal, I took up a Higher Diploma in Theological Studies (HDTS), at Saint Patrick’s Pontifical University Maynooth, upon the recommendation of Father Luke Macnamara OSB. This has today led to a Research Masters.
The HDTS is one approach which can help a person explore faith, or “fill in the gaps” and facilitate part-time learning while working, or undertaking other life commitments. It has certainly enhanced my theological education and appreciation of the
Bible, the Old Testament, the Gospels and the hidden meaning and complexity of symbolism and metaphor in such sacred writings.
This programme delivered by the faculty of theology
at Maynooth – in which Glenstal’s Father Luke serves as Dean – also covers Church history and tradition, the study of world religions, Christian social teaching and some philosophy. Ultimately it offers another way of drawing near to the person of Jesus, the centre of Christian faith.
Daniel Kevin O Sé – known as Kevin to his family – was born in Cork on 3rd July 1940. Following school at Presentation Brothers College, he read Irish and German at University College Cork, graduating B.A. in 1961, Higher Diploma in Education 1962 and M.A. in 1970. A love and mastery of Irish and German language and literature was to remain with him all his life.
Attracted by military service, he joined for a time the FCA or Irish Army Local Defence Force, particularly enjoying the opportunity to serve in an Irish-speaking unit. A firm believer in the NATO alliance, he took a short-term commission in the British Army and spent much of his time as an officer teaching German to NATO troops in Norway. While there, Kevin added Norwegian to his growing repertoire of languages.
Following his military service, he spent several years as a teacher and housemaster in the Collegium Augustinianum in Gaesdonck, near the town of Goch on the Lower Rhine, close to the Dutch border. The school occupies a former monastery of Augustinian Canons and is an institution of the Diocese of Münster.
On 30th November 1981 Kevin entered the novitiate in Glenstal and received the name Cilllian, reflecting his devotion to the Irish missionary monk and bishop of Würzburg, St Killian.
In May 1982, feeling that he was better suited to life as a teaching brother, Brother Cillian left Glenstal and joined the Presentation Brothers in Cork. Before the expiry of his temporary vows with this congregation, and realising that his home was in Glenstal, he returned to the monastery. Dispensed from repeating his novitiate, Brother Cillian made simple profession on 15th
August 1986 and was solemnly professed on 22nd July, 1992.
Following his return to the monastery, Brother Cillian was involved in the school, specialising in teaching Irish and German, especially to the younger classes. For the remainder of his working life Brother Cillian rendered meticulous and devoted service to the school, being appointed its Academic Director. As such, while still teaching, he dealt with all matters to do with the then Department of Education – a task he performed through the medium of Irish. He was also the long-term coordinator of the school’s German exchange programme. In this, he excelled and created friendly and enduring contacts among several schools, where he is still fondly remembered.
In retirement, Bother Cillian had greater time to indulge his love for German literature, in particular for Goethe, but not neglecting some comic writers. To keep his linguistic interest sharp, he learned Spanish, though was modest about his achievements in this. A further great interest was Irish language literature, in particular, modern Irish poetry. An important exercise was his daily walk, conducted punctually and impeccably attired.
Always a model of monastic observance in all its aspects, Brother Cillian preserved this faithfulness up to recent months when failing health made it impossible to be present at the liturgy, except at the daily Conventual Mass and Sunday Vespers. He greatly enjoyed and made convivial contributions to monastic recreational gatherings.
In his final months, increasingly confined to his room, Brother Cillian was lovingly cared for by his carers, Tina Rainsford and Bernie Boyle, and his nurses Margaret Hayes, Noreen O’Brien and Margaret Molony. On 9th July, Brother Cillian was brought to St Paul’s Nursing home in Dooradoyle, Limerick, where he died peacefully in the late evening of 14th July 2026.
Holy Family mosaic at All Saints’ Anglican Cathedral in Cairo, Egypt.
The question of immigration has become increasingly charged both at home and abroad in recent years, and World Refugee Day later this month offers a timely moment for reflection. The Irish government has announced that Ukrainian refugees will no longer receive housing supports, and is also considering financial incentives to encourage Ukrainians to return home. This is striking, given that the human cost of Russian aggression has not diminished. In response to domestic pressures, the government appears to be asking people to return to a country still at war.
Over in the United States, over 60,000 people are being held without charge by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), with the question of immigration becoming central to US politics. Meanwhile, across Europe, anti-migrant rhetoric is driving politics and causing turbulence – notwithstanding the demographic collapse in birth rates. For example, in Greece this year the government has closed over 5% of schools in the country and similar closures are imminent across the rest of Europe.
Here I don’t propose to set out a case for immigration reform, to condemn some, or to exonerate others, but rather on the basis of Ireland’s own history of emigration and – more recently – immigration to discern three broad principles:
“People have the right to migrate to sustain their lives and the lives of their families;”
“A country has the right to regulate its borders and to control immigration,” since this concerns the common good, and;
“A country must regulate its borders with justice and mercy.”
The Church has long spoken out on immigration and there are good reasons why she teaches what she does. For this, an examination of some pontifical documents is helpful.
The Encyclical Rerum Novarum (Of New Things) by Leo XIII, 1891
Leo XIII’s encyclical was the “first social encyclical.” Grafting itself onto a tradition hundreds of years old, it signals a new beginning and a singular development of the Church’s teaching in the area of social matters. This encyclical marked the beginning of what we could call the Church’s “social doctrine.” It’s not that the Church ignored social problems before Leo XIII; rather, with this encyclical, the Church began to speak, from Gospel values, her large doctrinal history, and her wealth of experience, to the social issues and ills of the day.
To summarise the document would be too much, so I wish only to point out that, even if it does not do so explicitly, Rerum Novarum laid the basis for the principles of subsidiarity and solidarity. These two principles are cornerstones of the Church’s social teaching and are integral to the later establishment of the EU.
Subsidiarity means that action should be taken at the lowest level possible. If, for instance, a family can provide for its children just fine, there is no reason for the state to intervene. If the lower-level falters, then the higher level of authority can come to assist, but the preference is that the lowest level look after its concerns. Solidarity encourages all to work together, since we are all the Body of Christ. This phrase most often refers to the mystical body of the church and also applies to the whole of society.
The Apostolic Constitution Exsul Familia Nazarethana (The émigré Holy Family of Nazareth) by Pope Pius XII, 1952
This little remembered document speaks about the historical undertakings of religious communities to provide spiritual care for immigrants. Pius XII provided a summary of his interventions in recent years and also speaks of the benefits of immigration.
“For this reason, on June 1, 1951 in a radio address on the fiftieth anniversary of the Encyclical Rerum Novarum, we did speak of the right of people to migrate, which right is founded in the very nature of land. “If the two parties, those who agree to leave their native land and those who agree to admit the newcomers, remain anxious to eliminate as far as possible all obstacles to the birth and growth of real confidence between the country of emigration and that of immigration, all those affected by such transference of people and places will profit by the transaction”… In this way, the nations which give and those which receive will both contribute to the increased welfare of man and the progress of human culture.” He goes on “the sovereignty of the State, although it must be respected, cannot be exaggerated to the point that access to this land is, for inadequate or unjustified reasons, denied to needy and decent people from other nations, provided of course, that the public wealth, considered very carefully, does not forbid this.”
The Encyclical Pacem in Terris (Peace on Earth) by Saint John XXIII, 1963
In this encyclical, John XXIII explicitly said that “every human being has the right to freedom of movement and of residence within the confines of his own State. When there are just reasons in favor of it, he must be permitted to emigrate to other countries and take up residence there. The fact that he is a citizen of a particular State does not deprive him of membership in the human family, nor of citizenship in that universal society, the common, world-wide fellowship of men.”
The Pope speaks of a right to movement and to immigration, but always when there are just reasons for doing so. This is very similar to the right to Freedom of Movement which is one of the fundamental rights set out in EU law. The Catechism of the Catholic Church is direct: “the political community has a duty to honor the family, to assist it, and to ensure especially… the right to private property, to free enterprise, to obtain work and housing, and the right to emigrate” (2211).
The Catechism recognises that states have a legitimate right and a real responsibility to regulate borders in service of the common good. This isn’t a concession to politics. It’s basic Catholic social thought. Pope Leo XIV put it simply in saying that“I think every country has a right to determine who and how and when people enter.” He went on to say that migrants’ dignity as human beings must be respected.
A nation fails its own obligations when enforcement becomes an end in itself, when procedural violations are treated as more serious than human dignity, when people who came out of genuine necessity have no path to make things right, when families are torn apart without serious justification, or when a permanent underclass of working people is simply left in legal limbo because it’s economically convenient. The question isn’t only whether laws are enforced. It’s how they’re enforced and whether personal dignity is honoured in the process. It’s important that families are kept together not as a favour but as a moral priority. Similarly special attention should be paid to the most vulnerable; children, refugees and people who didn’t choose their circumstances. The human person is not a problem to be managed, and their dignity has to be upheld.
The right to migrate is real, and it flows from the dignity of the human person. The Catechism says that wealthier nations are obliged, to the extent they are able, to welcome those who can’t find safety at home (CCC 2241). Gaudium et Spes(65) grounds this in the universal right to seek the conditions for a dignified life.
The Church asks something genuinely difficult of us: to hold two things at once that our political culture wants to treat as opposites. Human dignity must be protected and social order must be preserved. Ignore either one and you risk injustice. Hold both together and something better becomes possible.
Leo XIV, speaking last year on World Refugee Day, said the “link between migration and hope is clearly evident in many contemporary experiences of migration. Many migrants, refugees and displaced persons are privileged witnesses of hope. Indeed, they demonstrate this daily through their resilience and trust in God, as they face adversity while seeking a future in which they glimpse that integral human development and happiness are possible.”
The Pope went on to say that “migrants and refugees remind the Church of her pilgrim dimension, perpetually journeying towards her final homeland.” Ireland’s history of migration to the UK, North America and in our own day to Australia has ingrained the value of international travel and the possibility of seeking a different life away from this island. Having benefitted to such an extent from the hospitality of others, it is paradoxical and embarrassing that this country is struggling to offer hospitality to people arriving here.
Our response must return us to the Gospel, where Christ identifies himself with the stranger, the hungry, the displaced and the vulnerable. World Refugee Day is not only an occasion for political reflection, but for an examination of consciencewhich asks whether our homes, our parishes, our monasteries and our nation still have room for those who knock at the door in need. The migrant and the refugee remind us that we too are pilgrims, dependent on mercy, journeying towards a homeland not made by human hands. To welcome them with justice and compassion is not simply an act of generosity, but rather a way of recognising Christ himself on the road.
Holy Family of Nazareth, pray for us.
William Fennelly OSB
+ World Refugee Day is celebrated annually on 20th June.
Winoc Mertens OSB makes a carving of Saint Joseph the Worker at Glenstal Abbey.
Today’s feast of Saint Joseph the Worker presents us with the image of a saint marked by hard work, quiet dedication, and loving concern for the wellbeing of the Holy Family. It recalls the essential sanctity and dignity of work, and reminds us of the relationship between Joseph, the Church, and the cause of workers.
The feast was established by Pope Pius XII in 1955 to highlight the Christian understanding of work on a day when the Soviet Union promoted communism and military power on International Workers’ Day.
Saint Joseph is proposed as a model of work, and the beautiful image of him mentoring the young Jesus in the craft of carpentry stands out especially today. He exemplifies dedication in providing for one’s family, making of one’s work an offering to God, and of quiet service and integrity. Through his example, even our seemingly mundane tasks at work can become a way of co-operating with God’s plan.
Indeed, work has always formed part of the divine plan. In the creation of the universe, God Himself works and rests, and later He took man and “settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it” (Gen 2:15). Work is thus ordained by God and endowed with a profound dignity.
The importance of workers such as farmers, engravers, smiths, and potters stands out in the writings of Ben Sira, who describes their work and praises their crafts, reminding us that:
“all these are skilled with their hands,
each one an expert at his own work;
Without them no city could be lived in,
and wherever they stay, they do not go hungry.”
(Sirach 38:31-32)
Work also has a distinctively monastic value, as the Benedictine maxim ora et labora suggests. Saint Benedict understood not only the necessity of labour for a monastery to sustain itself, but also as a guard against the spiritual danger of idleness. He therefore prescribed fixed times for work alongside periods of sacred reading, insisting that “when they live by the labour of their hands, as our fathers and the apostles did, then they are really monks.” In the spirit of Benedictine moderation, he adds, however: “yet, all things are to be done with moderation on account of the fainthearted.”[1]
Such moderation reminds us that work must be rightly ordered: work is made for man, not man for work. In reflecting on this, we might consider those for whom there is no work or those unable to work, as well as the many whose labour is dangerous, unrewarding, or all-consuming, and all those who are sadly mistreated at work. We recall in a particular way the responsibility incumbent upon Catholics to uphold the dignity of work and defend the rights of workers, in accordance with the Church’s social teaching.
Here John Paul II writes that “the Church considers it her task always to call attention to the dignity and rights of those who work, to condemn situations in which that dignity and those rights are violated, and to help to guide [social] changes so as to ensure authentic progress by man and society.”[2]
This responsibility should also make us attentive to the treatment of workers within the Church itself. As the American Catholic commentator Don Clemmer observes, “the treatment of employees matters for a church with robust social teaching on the dignity of work and the human person,” as “an institution set up to serve people is called to examine its track record as servant of the servants.”[3]
May this feast lead us to reflect more deeply on the example of the holy saint of Nazareth – as a model for our own lives, and as a call to champion the cause of workers around the world.
Please note the following changes to the liturgical timetable and opening hours during Holy Week and Easter at Glenstal Abbey:
Holy Thursday
Morning Prayer at 7am.
Midday Prayer at 12.35pm.
Solemn Mass of the Lord’s Supper at 7pm.
Compline at 9.45pm.
Good Friday
Morning Prayer at 7.30am.
Midday Prayer at 12.35pm.
Solemn Liturgy of the Lord’s Passion at 3pm.
Compline at 8.35pm.
Holy Saturday
Morning Prayer at 7.30am.
Midday Prayer at 12.35pm.
Evening Prayer at 6pm.
Solemn Vigil of the Lord’s Resurrection at 10pm.
Easter Sunday
Solemn Morning Prayer at 8am.
Mass (no music) at 10am.
Sung Mass at 12 noon.
Solemn Vespers at 6pm.
Compline at 8.10pm.
Please note that Morning Prayer will take place at the later time of 7am from Easter Monday until Sunday 12thApril, with the normal liturgical timetable resuming on Monday 13th April.
Confessions
Good Friday at 11am, 4.30pm and 5.30pm.
Holy Saturday at 11am, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm.
Guesthouse
Closed from Wednesday 1st April until Friday 10th April.
Reception and Shop opening hours
Holy Thursday from 9am-5pm.
Good Friday from 9am-3pm.
Holy Saturday from 10am-5pm.
Easter Sunday from 9am-1pm.
Easter Monday closed.
Tuesday 7th April, Wednesday 8th April, Thursday 9th April from 10am-4pm.
I recently had the chance to spend five weeks in Glenstal Abbey. It was quite a different setting from that of my own community: the Monastic Community of Jerusalem (Fraternité monastique de Jérusalem) whose motto, “In the heart of the city, in the heart of God,” indicates our choice to live a contemplative life in the midst of crowds.
Since I joined the community in 2009, I have lived in vibrant cities as diverse as Paris, Montreal, Cologne, and now in Strasbourg. Our community was founded in 1975 in Paris, in response to the then-Archbishop’s call for the creation of monasteries in the city in order to help city dwellers reconnect with contemplation within the urban rhythm of life.
This led to the creation of two independent communities, one of men and one of women, sharing the same spirituality and celebrating the liturgy together. We lead – or try to lead – a contemplative life whilst remaining close to the people. Our experience of work tends to be unusual for a monastic lifestyle: we look for part-time jobs in the city, usually as employees, both to earn a living and to share something of people’s lives.
Some teach in schools, work in hospitals, are secretaries in enterprises, and we sometimes end up in unexpected positions: I studied tourism and heritage management, but during my religious life I found myself working as an editorial secretary for a religious magazine, as an accountant in a charity organization, as a webmaster for my own community and – closer to my skills – as a tour guide in Cologne’s Cathedral.
It can be quite a struggle to lead a monastic life in the turmoil of the city, especially for somebody who grew up in the countryside like me. But – wisely – we leave the city every now and again for what we call a “desert day” and I can reconnect with nature, go for a hike, listen to the “silence” of the countryside, try to identify the birdsong… Needless to say, I particularly enjoyed the surroundings of Glenstal Abbey in this regard!
As in all monastic communities, the singing of the Liturgy of the Hours plays an important role in our daily routine. This is all the more significant to me because prayer is associated with music. Music is indeed one of my joys. Even though I am not from a musical family I was introduce to it at a very young age, and I started playing the clarinet as a child. As an adult, I learned the flute, which proved to be much easier to play with other musicians or with keyboard accompaniment (thus solving for me all the troubles of sight transposition I had with the clarinet!). It was a skill I could develop in religious life and, moving from one place to another, it gave me the opportunity to discover new repertoires, and meet and play with talented musicians. The most recent experience I made was indeed a great source of shared joy: playing the recessional for the First Sunday of Lent – Sonata in F for Flute and Continuo (Opus 2, No. 1) Adagio; Allegro – accompanied on the organ by Abbot Columba McCann OSB.
I warmly thank the monks for their hospitality and kindness. At a time when my own community is undergoing a period of reform, this stay at Glenstal has given me a great opportunity to take some time for reflection and to rediscover monastic life in a new light.
This month the monastic community remembers Brother Benedict Tutty OSB on the 30th anniversary of his death.
John Gerard (Sean) Tutty was born in Hollywood, County Wicklow, on 6th July 1924. After secondary school with the Christian Brothers in Naas, County Kildare, he helped for some years in his father’s businesses in Hollywood.
He entered Glenstal on 19th November 1949, receiving the name Benedict and was professed on 21stNovember 1951. He was sent to the art school at Maredsous Abbey in 1952 where he blossomed artistically.
A year spent in Münsterschwarzach Abbey from 1961 to 1962, under the tutelage of Brother Adelmar Dölger OSB who helped him to perfect his technique as a craftsman and also widened his artistic horizons.
Back in Ireland, his career took off and he became one of the country’s foremost liturgical artists – a term he disliked. He was the right man in the right place at a time when many churches were being re-ordered after the Second Vatican Council and many new ones being built. He had an excellent working-relationship with the architect Richard Hurley, with whom he developed a close friendship.
While continuing to work on a steady stream of commissions and developing a distinctive style, Brother Benedict was a model of monastic observance – an observance flavoured with his own sardonic slant on human nature and monastic life. For many years he was elected to the Seniorate and acted as zelator – effectively assistant novice-master.
He taught the foundation-course in the Limerick School of Art and Design and held Saturday-morning art-classes for local children in his workshop.
In 1974 he contracted brucellosis, which made it impossible for him to work in his principal medium of copper. He began to experiment with terracotta, rapidly gaining a mastery of this medium. A testimony to this is the Madonna and Child presently in the reception-area of the monastery.
On the 21st March 1996 he participated enthusiastically in the celebration of the Transitus of Saint Benedict, expressing optimism for the future of the community. He died suddenly the following morning, 22nd March 1996.
Daniel Kevin O Sé – known as Kevin to his family – was born in Cork on 3rd July 1940. Following school at Presentation Brothers College, he read Irish and German at University College Cork, graduating B.A. in 1961, Higher Diploma in Education 1962 and M.A. in 1970. A love and mastery of Irish and German language and literature was to remain with him all his life.
